


To Worry (and Protect)

by unfoldingbliss



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 03:13:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14227902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfoldingbliss/pseuds/unfoldingbliss
Summary: If the princess noticed his tone—noticed the worry that seeped from his veins and cloaked his skin—she ignored it. Allura’s face brightened at Lotor’s approach, her smile dazzling and elated. She ran to meet him at the temple’s front steps and she paused just as he reached her, arms outstretched and reaching towards him. As if reaching to embrace him. [Lotor/Allura - Oriande]





	To Worry (and Protect)

He didn’t want to believe it. That he was outside the temple, re-entry impossible. That he had failed this test—this test he had waited decades, _centuries_ to take—and couldn’t fathom why. He was good enough. The marks were there. Everyone in the castle had seen them, Allura included! He had not climbed these cliffs, walked through those hallways to be denied his birthright. To be denied his destiny.

But he had been denied. He had failed the one test he wanted to pass, the test that would prove him worthy of his Altean heritage. It left his chest empty, a black void clasping onto his lungs and filling his throat with frustration and dread. He wanted to scream, but his body felt tight and motionless, as if he was made of stone. And it was cold: his anger was often hot and flooded his veins with rage, just as it had when he fought the lion mere seconds before. But this anger left him stiff and numb, staring at the temple in a defeated daze.

Perhaps it wasn’t anger, then. Perhaps it was contempt, directed at only himself.

All this work, all his research. All the mocking, all the abuse and isolation. They’d been for _nothing_.

Nothing could make up for this failure. He had lost his generals over this. He could lose the paladins’ trust if he came back empty-handed, especially if Allura couldn’t find—

“Allura!”

Desperation latched onto Lotor’s voice, the name sounding feeble and strained as it slipped past his lips. The chill encasing his skin and coiling over his stomach intensified, but neither fury nor self-pity settled into his chest. Something else pricked at his heart, and he pressed a shaky fist into his sternum to temper the nagging sensation. It drained him, more so than even the fight. He hunched over and breathed through his nose, almost coughing as he exhaled and warm air wafted over his face. It was a troubling feeling, and while his thoughts focused on Allura and her battle with the lion—what was her strategy, was she losing, _would she survive—_ the feeling pooled into his throat and bordered on nauseating. Like he was sick, like he'd been drugged.

Like he was worried.

Lotor gasped and his breath hitched, leaving his heart to squirm. It had been so long since he’d worried. Or at least, worried about anyone but himself. He had never worried about his generals. They were skilled fighters, capable of completing any mission he gave them. His father was beyond worry: that was a given. The paladins were his allies with a powerful weapon to lead them to victory. Concern for their safety and well-being would prove futile. And with the witch, fear and loathing were all had ever mustered.

Allura was capable and skilled. She was a princess and leader of an entire coalition. She, too, like his father, should be beyond worry. He should trust she’d be fine, that she would make it out of that temple with the knowledge he had dreamed of receiving himself. To worry meant that Lotor did not trust Allura, that he thought her frail and weak.

Allura was strong. Allura was resilient and resolute.

He knew all of this—he had _seen_ all of this—but he could not ease his quivering heart nor halt his thoughts of Allura in danger or Allura in pain or Allura collapsing onto that airy white floor, her eyes wide as the lion’s claws swipe at her chest, ripping through her flesh—

Blinding white and yellow lights shot out from the temple and through Lotor, interrupting his paranoia. He shielded his eyes, but the light dissipated a moment after, the cracks between his fingers revealing the calm pink sky above. Lotor returned his hand to his side and blinked, focusing his attention on the temple’s entrance. At first, he saw the lion and fear and anger struck at his core. Had the lion defeated Allura? Was it here to finish Lotor?

But like the lights, the lion vanished. And in its place was Allura, mouth open and eyes glazed in wonder.

Seeing the princess safe and whole dissolved the rage wedged into Lotor’s arms and legs, relief washing over his shoulders and chest in its stead. Feasibly, it could have been a trap by the lion, a way to ensnare him in that temple forever. That should have crossed his mind as he raced towards Allura, steps heavy and pounding the polished marble beneath them.

It didn’t. Because even if Allura failed like he had, she was fine. She was alive and they would leave together.

“Allura!” Lotor cringed as her name spilled from his mouth. It sounded scratchy and unsure. It could give the impression he’d been worried and thought her helpless. 

If the princess noticed his tone—noticed the worry that seeped from his veins and cloaked his skin—she ignored it. Allura’s face brightened at Lotor’s approach, her smile dazzling and elated. She ran to meet him at the temple’s front steps and she paused just as he reached her, arms outstretched and reaching towards him. As if reaching to embrace him.

That was unexpected, and a jolt of panic and something else—something bubbly and warm and akin to joy—surged through Lotor, inhibiting him from further movement. Gods, when was the last time anyone embraced him, least of all someone he thought of as highly as Allura? How would his body react to her hold, to her lean arms wrapped around his waist and her fingertips pressed into his back?

Before Lotor could compose himself, however, Allura’s smile dropped, noticing his tense reaction. She immediately shoved her arms into her sides, fingers curling into tight fists. She recovered soon enough, a wide smile filling her face and a gentle, nervous laugh escaping her. Perhaps she hoped to ease him, reassure him that her hands would stay away.

Not that there was anything to ease or be nervous about. Lotor recalled when he held her hand, how small it felt underneath his. That night, he had idly wondered how small the rest of her body would feel against his.

But the moment passed, just as those thoughts had. He would not learn the answer today. 

“I’m glad to see you are safe, Lotor,” Allura said, folding her hands in front of her. “When the lion separated us, I feared it would be some time before I found you again. Luckily, that was not the case. It seems the lion was far more generous at the test’s conclusion.”

Lotor had had that same fear and remembered calling out to her in that white-drenched plane. He hadn’t noticed his worry then, the way it crept into his voice so effortlessly. What was it about Allura that gave rise to such reactions? That made him want to reach out and…

And what?

“But are you okay, Allura?” Lotor asked, deciding to push those ambiguous feelings aside. He wasn’t here to question the change between them, however slight and natural it felt. “Your test lasted far longer than mine. I was—”

He paused, the word “worried” threatening to spill from his lips and make his feelings known. Allura didn’t want his worry. Allura needed his trust, his faith.

“You were…” Allura trailed, head tilted and eyes curious. Every second he scrambled for something, _anything_ else to say thickened the air surrounding them, making him appear awkward and daft. And Lotor knew he was neither. But his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and it was terribly difficult to think while Allura’s illustrious blue eyes stared into him.

“I was—I was sure you’d pass before myself, given that you learned so much from your father,” Lotor said, suppressing the urge to wince at his makeshift lie.

Allura seemed disappointed in his answer as well, turning her stare away and towards the floating cliffs. She straightened her back and squared her shoulders, her posture formal. “Oh, I see. That does make sense. I’m afraid I didn’t think of the solution until the very end. But I’m glad I did. The sages… it was all so beautiful.”

Before Lotor could ask her to elaborate (and consequently admit his defeat), Allura’s face brightened once more, and she took a step closer, her face only a foot away from his chest. “But you, Lotor! It sounds like you were waiting for quite some time. You must have figured out the solution right away! How did your test go? I would love to hear about it.”

Lotor’s eyes widened, but he did not turn his face away. Rather, sharp heat rushed over his neck and knots of embarrassment festered inside his stomach. Of course, he had to tell her, especially if she passed. There was no way to lie about this. And he didn’t _want_ to lie to Allura. She deserved the truth. She always would.

His resolve didn’t make his words any less stilted, however. Nor did it steady his thunderous pulse. “I... failed, princess. I fought the lion and defeated it. But in doing so, I was banished from the temple. I did not receive the sages’ blessing.”

A brief pause hung between the pair, and Allura’s lips parted, brows lifted in surprise. She glanced down at the marble beneath her, catching sight of Lotor’s shaking fist, his knuckles a pale lavender. “I’m so sorry, Lotor. I didn’t know.”

“You couldn’t have,” Lotor replied, trying to keep his voice soft and non-combative. He didn’t want Allura to think him envious of her achievement. They’d been here for her, anyway. Oriande was never for Lotor—he could see that now. There was too much anger holed up within him, too much pain to ever learn the secret wonders of Altea. “But it doesn’t matter. As long as one of us received the knowledge of Altean alchemy, then this trip was well worth it. Do not concern yourself with my failures. We should celebrate your success instead and depart the planet soon: the castle's oxygen levels must be dangerously low by now.”

Lotor offered Allura a small smile and turned his back, hoping she’d follow without further contention. He didn’t deserve her comfort or compassion. He had failed, and he would get over it.

Probably. Eventually.

But then a firm hand took hold of his forearm and he froze. Goosebumps flared across his arm and shoulder, warmth blossoming near his heart and spreading towards his stomach. Her fingers curled, and he was compelled to turn around and meet her gaze, understanding and kind.

All that from Allura’s fingers. All that from her touch.

“I know what it feels like to fail, Lotor,” Allura started, her voice solid and gentle, something Lotor imagined only she was capable of, “I know that it can humiliate and lead to doubt. But I want you to know this changes nothing. You brought me here of your own volition, you brought us here to help _me_. You have my absolute gratitude for that alone. Without you, we would have never found Oriande and my father’s abilities would still remain beyond me. So, please: allow me to thank you again. Everything that has happened today has meant so much to me, and it’s all because of you.”

The last of her words quickened Lotor’s heartbeat, and the warmth within his chest swelled and deepened. She had said words like that before, mere hours ago, but it did not diminish their effect. Despite his insistence he was fine, despite his desire to repress his embarrassing failure and push it far into the back of his mind, Allura would not stay quiet. She voiced her thoughts, how she felt about him and his defeat. But unlike his father or the Galra soldiers that mocked his small stature and interest in Altean civilization, Allura praised him, even when he failed. Even when he had done nothing to earn her praise.

Still, a smile crawled onto his lips, just as it had before. She had not let go of his arm. He hoped it stayed there. “Thank you, Allura. I am humbled by your praise.”

Allura returned his smile and stepped forward, her stare a touch more relieved. As if she’d been concerned. As if she’d been worried.

His head buzzed at the thought, and it surprised him, how his chest sung with joy. Rage should have shuddered his shoulders, should have shaken his legs and stabbed at his ribs: to worry about someone meant they were incompetent and weak, unfit for battle and victory. But Allura’s worry did not seem to stem from his failures. It was just about him—who he was and what he meant to her. 

Because she was beginning to care about him. Just as he was beginning to care about her.

Emboldened by her smile, Lotor reached and clasped his free hand over hers, enjoying how small it felt in his own. He only wished her skin was exposed so that he could feel her lithe fingers against his own. He spoke again, and he remembered why he called her name in that plane, why his voice softened and constrained, “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes,” Allura replied, eyes sparkling, a hint of pink spanning across her cheeks. “Very much so.”

Allura was strong. Allura was resilient and resolute. But that didn’t mean she was beyond protection.

If she would have him, have him despite his failures and mistakes, Lotor would protect her. Because she was his ally, because she was the future the universe depended on.

Because he wanted to. 

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a tumblr post by blackmoonbabe that noticed a missed opportunity with Lotor and Allura after their tests were over. So, I decided to write it out! I love Lotor and Allura and what a love story between them can bring to VLD. I have more Lotura ideas, but it's the writing with a full-time job and dogs and a niece that's hard (especially since I have so much stuff I want to write all at once, particularly my DBZ fic, haha...) I just hope this was all in-character!
> 
> P.S. - I'm starting to think I have a thing for long-haired, humanoid aliens...hmmm...


End file.
